Growing up of the East Side of Chicago is far from a dream. On Hughes Street, the wind is not the only thing blowing. The fumes of crack and the ringing of gunshots shake the concrete trees with a stronger spirit. Born the son of his mother Maya, Kanye West’s charisma was evident from birth. Of all the kids on his block, Kanye was different. While his friends were shooting hoops, Kanye was aiming at different goals. The sight of drug deals in his concrete front yard sent Kanye dreaming of a Hughes street lined in green.

As young Kanye grew, his physique was not the only thing maturing. In the halls of Martin Luther King High, Kanye’s drive set him apart from all his peers. But one thing did not change, the dreams that inspired young Kanye still drove him. Kanye’s ability to captivate his peers was noticed by his Professor Mr. Du Bois. Du Bois saw in Kanye, the son of Maya, the hopes of Martin Luther King High and Hughes Street. And the professor took young Kanye under his wing. He spoke to Kanye in private and said, “For too long Hughes street has been paved. You are the one who will plant and up will grow green.”

Du Bois cast for Kanye his dream of a Martin Luther King High School in which books could be given to students free of charge. Kanye set focused upon what must be done, captivated by the dream of Professor Du Bois. He quickly gathered an audience of his peers and said to them, “Turn to Waveland and see, lighter skin means more pages to read.” And his peers believed in his message. They protested at young Kanye’s word and books upon books were given to the school.

And now the dream of Kanye brought him much attention. The fame of young Kanye reached for miles, even to Jefferson Street. Upon hearing, Mr. Green’s ears were immediately perked. Mr. Green, the keeper of Jefferson Street, had to come meet this young phenom.

But Mr. Green was surprised by what he saw. All that was seen was a frail youth, dressed like his peers. It seems that what set young Kanye apart was his drive to accomplish the dreams of his mother Maya, Martin Luther King High, Hughes Street and his friend Professor Du Bois. Despite his appearance, Mr. Green believed that young Kanye could be the one who accomplished his dreams.

Mr. Green began to tell Kanye about the beauty of Jefferson Street. It was a place where the streets shimmered with possibilities. Mr. Green told him about all that could be done for his mother Maya if he left Hughes Street. He said, “Kanye it is clear that you have an ability to reach the masses. But why waste your talent for those who could never repay you. Come dream with me and then things will change.” And Kanye was captured by the dream of Mr. Green. And young Kanye went to sleep and Mr. West began to dream.

After awakening, Mr. West packed up his small apartment on Hughes Street and set his face towards Jefferson, a street miles away from Martin Luther King High. Although it was not within sight of the place where Kanye first dreamt, the plot of land that Mr. Green gave Mr. West was situated between friendly neighbors. Mr. Powell, whose wife worked as a secretary for the state, was eager to welcome Mr. West to his block. And even more friendly was his new neighbor Mrs. Harpo. Within 15 minutes of arrival, she quickly brought over freshly baked goods. Truly this was unlike Hughes Street.

After a few years, Professor Du Bois went to see Kanye by train. Professor Du Bois was immediately taken back by Mr. West – for he had grown big – so big that his old clothes no longer fit. Professor Du Bois’ old slacks and tie were no longer impressive. After exchanging pleasantries, Professor Du Bois said,
Kanye, the books that we worked so hard to get have been taken. The state removed them to save money on the construction of a new gymnasium that is being built. I am afraid our dreams for Martin Luther King High and Hughes street may be deferred.

After this, Professor Du Bois left and traveled back across town to Hughes Street. After leaving, Mr. West pondered all that the Professor had said about Martin Luther King High. And he set in silence and starred past the picture of his mother Maya and out the window. Because of a newly constructed tower, Mr. West could know longer see Hughes street. Looking out the window Kanye’s eye’s grew very tired and he put his head down and Mr. West slipped back into a dream.

Reflection Upon India

Here my team and I sit at a local cultural festival.

April 28th was a day of transition.  Physical transition – I, and eleven others, left to minister in India for six weeks.  Nothing more illustrates the distance that separates our world from theirs as that initial walk down a crowded Delhi street.  The sights of people literally everywhere, the smells of curry and the sounds of a million horns honking quickly screams, “you’re not in Kansas anymore.” Spiritual transition – I have found it to be very true that the depth of my commitment to God has been closely associated with my proximity to the poor.  So April 28th plunged me into new levels of understanding, chiefly because of my closeness with the poorest of the poor.  In an often quoted (and sadly more often overlooked) word from Jesus, he says, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me (Matt. 25:40).” So as I walked that street again, I was bombarded by the thoughts that I was looking at Jesus.

In retrospect, the six weeks went very well.  Very hard, but very well.  A moment that encompasses the trip for me occurred in the state of Orissa.  Orissa ranks last of all the twenty eight states in India for the amount of government aid it receives.  To the normal Indian, the mention of Orissa brings embarrassment. In Orissa, the lies of history books collided with my own perspective of what it means to be created in the image of God.

We became Indian celebrities because of our singing and dancing skills. This is us preparing to perform for the captive audience.

It is the common boast of modern India that the Caste System is a thing of the past.  Though the letter of the law labels caste system discrimination as illegal, the spirit of Caste remains tangibly present.  No where did we encounter this more than in Orissa.  In Birmitrapur, in the shadow of the city lies a small squatter village affectionately called “the sweeper village.” Fate has dealt a tough hand to the Dalit people that comprise this village.  Dalits in India are only in theory considered human.  Dalits are not even considered a caste.  Their function in society is to do that which is unclean for “real humans to do.”  In this particular village, despite the level or quality of the education they receive, young individuals are destined to spend their lives sweeping the feces filled drains that line the city.  This taxing labor earns them little more than a quarter a day.  A quarter intended to support wives and children. As we surveyed Birmitrapur, we stumbled upon the village to the chagrin of our upper caste friends.  We were warned to avoid the village for that the village was home to “werewolves.”  As we entered the village, we were greeted with a combination of smiles and confused looks.  The confusion seemed to stem from our presence with them.  It was as if we were the first foreigners to enter their village, much less look in their direction. Our time there was mostly spent in song.  As we sang and danced, the standoffish beginning of our relationship slowly faded to smiles.  Their smiles were motivated by much more than the skill of our performance.  It was as if the joy of our songs provided a brief pause and ray of light to an existence that is ever dark. Darkness that the many shining temples just over the horizon seem content with.  Darkness that God wants to order by his word as he did at the beginning.  The Bible begins with these words: “The earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light (Gen. 1:2-3).”  With a word, God interrupted the darkness – forever. I feel honored and humbled that our presence among the people of India because of our association with the God who by a word orders all that is chaotic, served as a beacon of light.  Light that “shines into the darkness…and can not be extinguished (John 1:5).”

The experience made me reconsider the value of a person, every person for that manner. Every person is created in the image of God and with that comes the right to be treated as a human being – the right to education, the right to health care, the right to shelter, the right to food, the right to live in relationship with their neighbor in harmony and happiness.  As the people of God, it is our responsibility to work to make this possible.  It is an offensive truth that to neglect the service to the poor is to neglect the service of Jesus, after all he voluntarily chose to identify with them (see Matt. 25:40 quoted above). I feel both honored and humbled about my responsibility for the people of India.  I feel both honored and humbled that I was able to be with these beautiful people for six meager weeks.  I feel both honored and humbled that my hopes for India are no longer statistics but people – people with names, faces, and stories.  I feel both honored and humbled to tell those stories to you.

Luke 13:18 He said therefore, “What is the kingdom of God like? And to what should I compare it? 19 It is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in the garden; it grew and became a tree, and the birds of the air made nests in its branches.”

This is the center of Nowa Toli or “Nu Village”. This massive tree serves as the hub for education, community interaction, and the main escape from the blistering heat. We were the first foreigners to visit their village, much less look in its direction. Our time with the people of Nowa Toli was spent addressing the healthcare needs of the people.  The depth of their need goes well beyond their health.  This village has a literacy rate of 0%, is invisible to the outside world, has no school building/system.  Despite the depth of it’s need, Nu Village is the perfect place for the Kingdom of God to take root – like that tree.

Friday – September 7,2007 – 3:54 P.M.

There once was a girl whom became pregnant. Initially the seed growing within her caused her much discomfort. Her clothes no longer fit, she had to acquire new ones. She was no longer understood by her friends. Her growth was only experienced in suffering. She wanted to rid herself of the burden.

As the woman’s belly filled with life and water, she was filled with faith. Although a world of possibilities initially caused her fear, she now possessed hope. A great love developed between her and her responsibility. She began to regard suffering as a friend. The belly protruding from was her sign to the world – a sign no one could understand except for those whom also had it.